


Under A Blue Sun

by nakedhelot



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakedhelot/pseuds/nakedhelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mujushin Dojo becomes an assassin squad. Jin is 14. Mugen is secret police in training, he is 11. The Kasumi family is against the Shogunate. The world changes faster than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under A Blue Sun

Words had spread that the new right-boy of Imano Jinpachi had achieved that place only through the wiles of a little girl and her puppy dog eyes working a father's affinity for spoiling his only child. 

Jin didn't put weight in snide speaking, even less when such talk had no foundation. He was never one to take opponents lightly and the secret police were nothing if not formidable.

When he saw the boy during the Kanda Festival, he became conflicted; take away the high geta and he was short. Whippet limbs, small shoulders and wrist bones visible a rooms length away. Jin was by no means heavy, but he was confident he could snap this pre-pubescent in half. 

He was caught staring; eyes heavy with baggage, lips turned in knowledge were shadowed by the fall of light in the room. Even on his face the skin seemed to stretch thin against sharp glass bones. 

They were both addressed by peers, having been silent long enough. “Mugen” kept his gaze and Jin turned away to properly converse. Out the corner of his eyes, he saw the boy moving his lips, look not matching what he spoke. The implied smirk remained stitched across that mouth. Moving at him.

He has the bearing of a wolfling.

“Mugen” Hanataro had repeated at his behest. “That's Jinpachi-san's trainee.” 

The sentence was absolutely simple. Hanataro was that kind of person. Jin took a sip of his cooling tea and Hanataro, older, finished off his saucer of sake. 

“To be honest, he doesn’t look like much.”

The saucer was refilled by a faceless server.

“But you never really know.”

“Hm.”

The hall soon thinned out until all the extraneous members had shuffled away. Jin was an arm, perhaps two, away from the Shogun. He refused to note how far Mugen was. Having him present seemed irritating enough.

Diminutive or not, Jin acknowledged that there was more than a purported talent for flirting with the important daughters.

Jin is adamant that he paid full attention to the discussion, but any hope of committing political details to memory was dashed by the sound of an arrow sluicing through sake-genmaicha fumes. Jin is also adamant that he would have been able to cut the arrow before it ended its trajectory towards the Shogun's head, had it not lodged itself in the skull of Matusda-san, the evening's host.

Jin assures himself of these things: Matsuda-san, an accomplished swordsman, was sitting two fingers breadth away from the Shogun; all it took was a shift of his head as opposed to a leaponto a ridiculously wide table. That he was above comparing the seconds it took for himself and Mugen, a little sliver of a man, three years his junior to find their feet on the fire wood of the table, both avoiding the breakage of delicate china. That he was definitely the first to chase after the culprit (herein he accedes that Mugen was hot on his trail).

Maybe there were others.

They had both been treading swift on the roof tiles before Matsuda-san's dead body collided with his floor.

Jin had lost track of both the criminal and the child when his sandals slapped against the neatly pressed dirt of Kanda streets. Jin barely cursed.

The moon was still the strange unfinished circle it had been during daylight. Jin ran faster as he spotted the slip of a silhouette. All black dress would do nothing tonight.

He stopped at the sight of Enshiro Mariya, an unknown covered in dark and a severed arm sleeved in the same colour. He was bleeding from both the recently rendered useless shoulder joint and the coincidence of Mariya's sword and his calves.

Mugen was standing there, foreign blade in hand and spatter on his face.

“Jin,” Mariya struggled in his awkward, hostile embrace with the stranger. “Stop the bleeding on his shoulder!”

Without pause, Jin removed his outer kimono and cut the sleeve with no remorse. It was summer wear anyway, he could earn enough for a suitable replacement before the season arrived. More strongly than the memory of being literally milimetres in proximity to gore as opposed to a sword and outstretched fore-arm away, was the memory of Mugen clothed in well manufactured blue silk. There was blood on it. Jin would never again see him groomed so finely, or so two dimensional.

The cloth flapped around his form like expensive play-clothing on a cheap doll. 

He really was too small.

“-t's the point, you're going to kill me anyway,” the voice gurgled and the blood seemed to imitate its rhythm bubbling at the exposed bone-socket.

“Give me a quick answer, and I'll grant an easy death. Draw this out, so shall I.”

Jin was tasked with keeping the assassin upright during Mariya's interrogation. Mugen was sitting in front of a closed sweet rice cake store, as petulant as his age demanded. His head lolled to one side and his cheek was squashed in his palm. He did not lift his head even as the rest of the witnesses started scrambling onto the scene.

There was more to-and-fro before the man shrugged, hooked in Jin's arms.

“Actually, I want you to know who's after you. We're strong enough, so give it all you've got, Shogunate dog!” He spat with a twisted expression, almost convulsing in Jin's grip. Then he stilled, and even from behind, the young swordsman could feel the intensity of his grin. “You thought Shimabara was scary?” He sang with a mocking lilt.

Jin swore that the left group of Mariya's facial muscles executed a collective twitch.  
“Jin, drop him.”

As the man fell with a thud, the surrounding circle which had barred the Mugen boy from view, tensed in anticipation that Matsuda's killer would attempt an escape. Instead, he settled himself in the honourable position, in the middle of the dirt street. Mariya allowed him to struggle through the motions with his shattered leg and deteriorating arm, weakly squirting blood on the clumping ground. Jin noted the skid marks close to the muddy, dark red drops.

“And that's all you'll be getting from me”

The man, Taroki Satoma of Iki city, the young husband Rima Satoma and the young father of Kiriko, Hita and Yasu Satoma – all of whom died later on July 29, 1645 in an unfortunate and inexplicable housefire – tensed his jaw and bit his tongue off. As he was going through the motions of offering a bloody smile, Enshiro Mariya removed his head. So quickly that those who were not in the inner ring of the stiff audience would distribute tales of Mariya beheading Satoma as soon as “his dirty teeth pressed into his dirty tongue – it was bloody!” These rumours would be further complicated by the single rivulet of blood that ran down the centre of Satoma's forehead upon subsequent inspection. Jin had deemed it to be a remnant of some slow bleeding wound on the top of his head.

Throughout the clean up, the dispersion of the few central Kanda citizens, who knew no better and the exchange of information amongst the relevant officers, Jin stayed at Mariya's shadow. As their rounds ended, with less than a handful of stragglers as company, Mariya approached Mugen, still sitting in front of the mochi house, this time leaning against its walls. The little boy bothered with no greetings. 

“Why didn't you let me kill him.”

“Obviously he was needed for interrogation.”

Neither did Mugen bother with any cutting looks. He let his general mood put that across.

“I could have killed him afterwards.” 

“It would have-”

“He was mine.”

“Been too messy.”

Mugen lifted his lids, the bags under his eyes becoming more perverse, and he smiled, having no good reason to offer argument nor want of one. He then stood on the bench and swung onto the rooftop, walking away at leisure. Bound to his form was the peculiar contraption resembling a bow which was Satoma's'accomplice. 

Jin had looked to his teacher, expecting a reprimand for theft of evidence, or something along those lines. Mariya allows a wan look of amusement.

“It's probably because he's so short.”

Jin replied non-committal, with a light, whistling “Hmm...”

They followed the main entourage, passing a couple sweeping over the red debris.

“He dropped from a roof and took the arm, then he jumped to split the skull in two, from the crest. I took the leg and this caused the criminal to fall after which I used my momentum to push us both away.”

The scene gained clarity in Jin's mind. He spots dirt on Mariya's hakama.

“Good thing he's so small or he would have dropped quicker. Remember Jin, it's always these little things.”

They reached the school grounds and Jin fell asleep with a curse.

–

Twins more or less omened a dead mother, and in-spite of incessant wailing, Gojuu hall remained shrouded in loss. The top tier of the re-organised assassination squad and the secret police along with three personal envoys of the Shogun began deliberations with formal bows. Beyond the rice paper screens sat the lower classes of each party; among the youngest was Mugen, recently turned 11 and Jin, halfway to 14. Covertly, Yatsuha Jinpachi, age 9 sat in another partitioned section of the famed school selected for it's convenient acoustics. With her were two hand-maidens who knew no better.

Hours later, one of the Shogun's delegates emerged from the sliding doors. Highly experienced men from across the board were selected for a mission; those men retreated into the shade of Gojuu hall and the rest were instructed to enjoy a night out in the town.

Jin wanted to visit the notable dojo of Mihara's many martial arts schools, but without prior reservation or the convincing presence of his teacher this would prove unwieldy an endeavour. Otherwise, Mihara was a fairly quiet district in spite of its leagues of fighters. The discipline instilled into them made for a mostly peaceful locale.

Instead, these fighters sneaked off and travelled the easy distance to the lively surrounds of Hiroshima castle, whereupon they were faceless, loyalty-less vagrants with a good sword-hand and an overwhelming instinct to show it off. Mariya had instructed to meet him near Hiroshima castle anyway.

He supposes it should be counted as lucky, when fat drops of rain fell only after he was well within the immediacy of Hiroshima castle, but there was only a certain grimness in his disposition when he ducked into a small teahouse. He had his tea and a small bowl of udon. 

“You and your dad don't look alike at all.” He had been contemplating whether or not to order a stick of dango.

That had to suffice as enough reason not to notice the gangly runt who chose to sit next to him, all too pointy a face dissecting his own.

“The crest is the same, but the faces... uh uh, no way.”

Jin remained silent.

“You're adopted then?”

Mugen shifted, probably getting more comfortable than anything else.

“Are you angry at me?” The boy asked, staring at a plate of dango at an adjacent table.

“I'm angry at you, you know. You go around wearing the kamon of some big shot clan, standing at the side of 'the slayer of a thousand men',” at this his face stretches into something to be lampooned, “and for what?” He leered. Jin noticed a gap in his teeth, where a tiny bud of calcium had only beginning to sprout. He rested his cheek in his palm. 

“Do you want some dango?”

Mugen wass still, but never quiet, not for very long. “Give it to me.” He grinned wide and that gap becomes more pronounced. Jin wondered how many milk teeth he had left.

Jin watched shielded faces scurry in the wet through slitted windows and Mugen's eyes had kept running and jumping across the room taking in everything and all with demented speed. Two cups of tea and a plate carrying four sticks of dango arrived before an awkward atmosphere could blanket the space of silence between the pair.

Mugen blinked at the food in distaste. “Just this much?”

“It's enough for both of us... two for you and two for me.” He reminded in haste, not liking the glaze in Mugen's stare.

“I'm paying so shut up and eat only your share.”

Mugen parried him with an amused sound. “Fine, but only because you swore at me.”

“... Of course you wouldn't work by the ways of logic.”

“Hey now, hey now what makes you say that?” Mugen retorted, incredulous, around a mouthful of dango. Jin watched him demolish two at a time, and noted, correctly, that this would be Mugen's version of restraint. Even so, no crumbs fall out of his mouth, and his messiness did not amount to waste. A method in madness, the Mujushin student observed dully.

“Seriously though, you don't even know me!” Mugen has polished his two sticks, and lingering on Jin's untouched share. Jin, working at the half-point of his first stick, grabbed the second one, not caring much for looking like an idiot as he ate. Mugen snarled soundlessly.

Jin paid him no attention as he ate his fill and Mugen had no choice but to resort to sipping at tea which did not match his palate. When their dirty plates had been collected, and their cups refilled for what was the final time that afternoon, Mugen introduced himself, as formal as Mugen could get.  
“I'm Mugen,” which is accompanied by a rakish smirk that was beyond his years and tones that were more of a man's than a boy's.

“But you already knew that.”

Jin smiled behind his cup.

“I'm Jin of the Mujushin school and the retainer of Enshiro Mariya.”

“And I already knew that.”

Jin looked down at Mugen, narrow shoulders and jutting shoulder blades, with a width that made the rest of him look frailer. He would get a growth spurt soon. Mugen rested his head on the table, pushing the empty tea cup aside and watching the entrance. It seemed he was waiting for something. 

“The rain should stop soon.” He had said this when it was pounding so hard outside that it was almost deafening. Jin was wondering whether or not he should risk a second bout of tea, accounting his available finances. It was not a choice to wander outside without a sure, indoors, destination and the house was filling with other dripping denizens coming in to buy the cheapest items on the menu in order to get out of the rain. It would not be polite to loiter on an empty table.

Just as he was about to raise his hand for another order of tea, Mugen stopped his movement, “Two minutes and we can go,” 

The boy sat up in his seat and pulled his inadequate winter wear tighter around him; he drained the last bitter drops of his cold tea and winced right after. Jin went through similar motions. Mugen jerked a hand in some kind of thanks and Jin politely voiced his farewells. By the time they were out of the tea house, the heavy rain had diluted to a light and manageable shower. As they turned the corner, the drops of water felt more like walking through morning dew.

“Well, see you.” Mugen had a propensity for disappearing that Jin knew he would never grow out of.

The cloud cover had disappeared and there was still a few hours of sun left to look forward to. Jin decided to go to Mitaki-dera, but the majesty of the temple was undermined by the season. The glorious reds that the place was remarked for had been replaced by naked wood. Nevertheless, the trees glimmered in the new-fell rain and Jin made to pay his respects.

It was only a short walk to Shukkei-en, and Jin thought he might as well make the sightseeing trip. The sky was darkening at that point and it would be wise to head to Hiroshima Castle straight after visiting the famed gardens. He figured executing a few kata in serenity would be rationale enough for the small detour.

He was more than content with his plans as he crossed the Rainbow Bridge, the dark waters reflecting effervescent greens, refreshed by the recent weather wavering only slightly. He looked across the pond, absorbing the subtle strength of the garden in its greens and meek browns and reds when he spotted a couple in the pavilion. He paid them no mind, but he chose to amble aimlessly for some minutes hoping they would have finished their business by the time he came around. There were other places to execute kata but he was set that the pavilion was really the only place he would be totally satisfied. He had bothered with the whole tour and he planned to make it completely worthwhile. 

When he returned, the pavilion was not completely empty, but he would spot that foreign hilt anywhere. He also felt as if he was intruding on an serious bout of sulking. 

“I thought it was you, on the bridge. Your clothes are too white, you know.”

Jin unsheathed his sword and places his feet and body into stance. “You were with Jinpachi Yatsuha-san,” 

“Yep,” Jin took a deep breath, rapidly flicking through the moves of this particular kata behind his eyelids. The air was clear with clean, crisp water and the leaves conversed in perfect company. 

His first strike cleaved the air perfect in two, and almost masked the sensation of light geta launching themselves from the pavilion floor. The second strike came so quickly it seemed like it could not be differentiated from the earlier and coincided with the almost non-existence of geta finding purchase on a branch deeper in the woods than Jin would have predicted. The leaves changed their tone but the complication in company was more than welcome. This exchange continued, Jin following through his precise movements with incomparable speed and Mugen piercing the rich forest air, leaping as if he was one of its own rather than a guest. Unseen, not disturbing. Jin bowed, cheating as kept his right eye ajar to confirm the small, geta bound feet standing wide apart paces in front of him. He corrected his posture and took a parting breath as Mugen indulged in a great heave of a sigh before stretching his muscles. There was nary a stray leaf on his immature get-up or is unkempt hair.

Jin was in the middle of short meditation, cross-legged on the pavilion floor, when Mugen slumped across the space, done with his own post-action ritual. 

“You heading to Hiroshima Castle?”

“Yes.”

“Meeting up with Mariya?”

Jin bristled at the lack of honorific, but decided not to act on it. Mugen didn't seem the type to care for such constraints of their society. A jolt in Jin's mind ran through his spine, as his perception of the small, strong boy surprised himself. 

“Yes.”

“He should be with Jinpachi. I'll go with you.”

“You hold no grudges?” For him stealing what you deemed as yours went unspoken.

Mugen got up, looking down at Jin's seated position, and that rogue expression washed over his face again. Jin found himself impressed at this half thing of a man. “His time will come.”

The delivery of the words was such that Jin could find no offence rising in him. 

Your time will come too, little wolfling. Instead, Jin replied with a “Hm.” 

It was a short, straight path to the castle gates so Mugen decided to talk quickly as they crossed the Rainbow bridge and headed for the garden's exit. 

“Saga domain. That's where the 'big boys' are headed.”

Jin was somewhat thankful for the information if not bewildered that he was receiving it. Knowledge was power, but curiosity was dangerous.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I'm pissed!” And Mugen's face was more than indication of it, turning into an ugly second.

“Me and Hirado city have a history,” suddenly a mirthful smile, Jin marvelled at Mugen's facial muscles, “I know that whole area like the hilt of my sword.”

“We're too young. The target is too important. As if it's hard to understand.”

“Doesn't mean I'm any less pissed, I can't help my age! But I know better than any of those guys their sending!”

“Do you even know why their going?” 

“Someone tried to kill the big boss.”

“Do you care?”

Mugen paused but he might as well have been chuckling with menace, “Yeah, it wouldn't have been much of an adventure if I knew the place anyway. Plenty of people to prove myself, against.” He gave Jin a pointed look.

The lantern's on the big street had been lit, yet people were discouraged from mingling due to the messy ground. Jin envied Mugen's heightened geta then.

“Jin!... Mugen,” Mariya stood alone at the foot of Hiroshima castle.

“Where's Jinpachi?”

Mariya said nothing about Mugen's impoliteness, which was profoundly out of character. Jin would wonder why at random, quiet intervals through the night.

“He'll be heading the rest.”

“Right. I'll go find Yatsuha.” 

Mariya looked at him as if he had snatched the words out of his mouth and clawed his tongue out along with it. Then there was that same amused smile. “I don't think I need to tell you to watch out for that one, Jin.”  
Jin replied with a rare grin. Mariya could attribute that predatory sharpness to a trick of the hazy, orange lanterns, but for some reason he did not want to.

–

On July 9, 1645, Fuu Kasumi lost her mother.

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the gap between Jin and Mugen's age because I felt like it. Any out of character, Mugen is a neater fighter, Jin works more on ruthlessness than on the justice of martial arts is because of the alternate reality, Jin has been accustomed to the idea of an assassin squad earlier. Mugen is in professional fighting training as opposed to relying completely on raw street skills (not that there isn't any of that, because trust, there will be.) The rating will go up, pairings are both decided and not concrete, its the way I want the characters to be more than indecision on my part. I'm trying to keep the geography as realistic as possible, but if the show took liberty with it, I'll do the same - Mihara and Hiroshima castle are about 12 hours apart as opposed to the general closeness purported in the show, maybe the geography was different in those times, but Wikipedia has no indication of that. I'll take that the show did better research on it, and leave it at that. Anyway, I'm excited for this project and I hope people out there will be too! I wanna see how this turns out, woo adventure! Cross posted to ffnet under the same penname buddies.


End file.
